


Duty

by Eriador117



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not nice advisors, romance beginnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:13:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eriador117/pseuds/Eriador117
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at the kink-meme:</p><p> </p><p>The Advisors pimp the Inquisitor out to nobles and dignitaries in order to fund the inquisition. How they do this can range from extortion to outright use of force. Either way, Inquisitor deals, until their LI worms their way into their bed. Cue awkward feelings and HC.</p><p>Take it and run with it. Does LI put a stop to it? Does it continue? Make it as angsty or happy as you like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty

Duty. How he'd come to loathe that word.

Marcus Trevelyan soon began to dread going to the war room, having to pass through Jospehine's little lair in the anteroom before it. He dreaded the words he often heard from her. Today was no different. She dismissed the messenger she had been talking to and gave him a winning smile.

"Inquisitor, a word if you have a moment."

Marcus' stomach dropped to somewhere near his feet. He felt himself sway and had to hold onto Josephine's desk so he wouldn't collapse on the stone floor. It had been three weeks since he'd last heard those words and he'd begun to hope, foolishly, that he would never have to do it again.

"Yes, Lady Montilyet?" he said with the strongest voice he could muster, willing this all to be a dream.

"As you know, Inquisitor, we need coin and status if we are ever to come across as an organisation worth listening to. Important people call at Skyhold and we are expected to keep them happy in every way. That way they can carry tales that grow our influence for the better."

"I have done everything you've asked of me," said Marcus, his throat catching. He'd done it and hated himself, scrubbing his body bloody in the bath afterwards, but still he never felt clean.

"Of course, Inquisitor, as is your duty." Josephine shuffled the papers on her desk, still smiling. How could she smile about it?

That's what it all came down to in the end, didn't it? Duty. He'd had duty force fed to him since he was old enough to walk. He was the only one who could seal the rifts above Thedas; just like it had been his duty to serve Andraste when he'd been a chantry brother. The vows he'd spoken only a year earlier haunted him now. _Chastity, Poverty and Obedience._ Being chaste was a dim memory and how could he claim poverty when he lived in a large stronghold? The only vow he had left was obedience, and his advisors made sure he obeyed.

The one time he had refused to play nice with one of the visitors, Leliana had shown him why she was the Inquisition's spymaster and not easy-going Varric. Leliana knew how to torture so the marks wouldn't show. Marcus had been delirious for two days and had been kept locked in his quarters so that he wouldn't accidentally reveal what the advisors made him do. Marcus wasn't a person to them, he was an idea, and ideal and as such how could he be hurt? It was his duty to help the Inquisition grow. It was his duty to do those vile, hateful things so that their influence would extend beyond Skyhold.

"As you know, Lord Jean-Pierre is a guest here at Skyhold. You met him last night at dinner."

Marcus nodded and swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. Jean-Pierre was an old Orlesian noble, thin and balding, his nose stuck in the air as he lamented how cold Skyhold was and how it couldn't compare to his Orlesian holdings. During dessert, he kept placing his hand on Marcus' thigh and squeezing it, leering at Marcus as if he was much more interesting than the dessert. Marcus had done nothing to discourage the man. What could he have done? His advisors had made it clear that it was Marcus' responsibility to keep all these nobles and diplomats happy.

"He is waiting in your quarters, your worship. He wants to discuss our trade deal in private and I assured him that you would of course welcome such a meeting."

"The trade deal, yes of course," said Marcus, his voice hollow. Sometimes he wondered if Josephine believed the lies she spouted at him. Both of them knew this was nothing to do with any trade deal, even if it had, the outcome would have been the same.

Marcus didn't even bother going to the war room now; what did it matter what missions he sent his advisors on? They didn't care about him, never had. All their false smiles and insincere flattery were nothing to him now. He turned on his heel and walked out into the Great Hall, his heart and stomach heavy with the knowledge of what was about to happen in his quarters. His whole body trembled at the mere thought of it. Marcus squared his shoulders, marched through the Hall and pushed open the door to his rooms.

*

"Varric, mind if I join you?" asked Dorian as he spotted the dwarf in a dark corner of the Herald's Rest.

"Sure, Sparkler," said Varric, moving aside some parchment and quills that had been spread on the table before him. Perhaps he'd been working on his next book. "Can I get you a drink?"

Dorian shook his head and Varric raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Something on your mind?"

Dorian nodded; he'd been right in thinking Varric was the man to talk to about this. He had to talk to someone about it before he went entirely mad. "I fear I may have done something foolish."

"Oh? Do tell." Varric folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head.

"Remember when we were at that merchant's and the Inquisitor got my amulet back?"

"You haven't gone and sold it again, have you? Not after the hoops Marcus had to go through to get it back for you. He'll be devastated."

"No, what do you take me for? He brought the amulet to me and he didn't want anything in return. I've never met anyone like him. Who does something for other people, just because they want to make them happy? Without asking for anything in return? In Tevinter, everything is a negotiation, you must get something. Nothing is done without thought for future favours or advancement. I accused him of making me indebted to him."

"You didn't!" Varric's eyebrows rose so much they almost became part of his hairline.

"I did. I was wrong-footed and upset and he just stood there with those doe eyes and said he didn't do it for that. He did it for me, for he knew how much the Birthright meant to me. I thought – maybe that perhaps he liked more more than as a friend. It was such a spur of the moment thing. We were both a bit overwrought from my ranting and I – I kissed him."

"About bloody time," said Varric, shaking his head.

"What? Why would you say that?"

"Dorian, Dorian. Anyone can see that you two were made for each other. That lad worships the ground you walk on. Haven't you noticed the way he looks at you?"

"He bolted like a startled deer. He couldn't get away from me fast enough. Maybe he's not interested in me like that at all."

"You did just kiss him, right? Nothing else?" Varric sounded like an over protective parent and in truth Varric did seem to act as the father figure for all of them. Marcus was only nineteen and he'd been thrust into the head of an organisation that expected him to lead. Sometimes they forgot how _young_ their Inquisitor was.

"Just a kiss, Varric. I wouldn't press my attentions where they weren't wanted."

"You have to remember, Marcus has been in the Chantry since he was six. That kiss with you, that was probably the first time he'd kissed anyone. Maybe it freaked him out a bit. New experiences and all that. It doesn't mean he doesn't like you, he's just a bit weirded out about these new feelings and experiences. If he'd stayed with the Chantry he would be expected to remain a virgin for the rest of his life. Relationships of any sort are new to him. I think you just need to take things slow with him."

"You sound like you wouldn't disapprove if I were to pursue a relationship with him." Dorian had never actually been in a relationship himself. He was every experienced when it came to sex, but not when it came to a relationship. That wasn't how things were done in Tevinter. Men could seek out other men for pleasure with no one batting an eye, but try for a relationship with a man? That just wasn't done.

"I would have no objections if it was in fact a relationship you were after. If you're just looking for someone to warm your bed, then you should look elsewhere. Marcus deserves better than to be used and discarded, and so do you, Dorian. You could make each other happy, if you'd let yourselves."

Cole wandered down from upstairs, mumbling to himself. "Blood on the sheets. The maids will know. I can't bear it. Pain, sharp and stabbing. Aches in my arms. I can't move. I can't move! Fingers, crushing squeezing. Breathe. I can't breathe. I'm going to die! I'm going to die!"

"Cole, who is it? Who's dying?" demanded Varric, standing up so fast that his chair clattered to the floor behind him.

Cole looked at them both and fixed his gaze on Dorian. "He's crying out for you but he doesn't want you to see. He doesn't want anyone to see. The Inquisitor."

Varric and Dorian wasted no more time and rushed out of the tavern, scrambling up the steps to Skyhold's main tower. They dashed through the Hall, ignoring greetings called out to them as they made their way to the Inquisitor's rooms. Dorian was first up the stairs, his longer legs being able to take the treads two at a time with Varric trailing behind him. Dorian stopped dead, his brain hardly being able to take in the scene.

Marcus, a naked Marcus, was tied to the bedposts, blue silk ribbons around his wrists and ankles. An old man, his naked skin like wrinkled parchment was kneeling on Marcus' thighs, his hands squeezing around Marcus' throat. Dorian used magic to topple the man onto the bed and away from Marcus. Dorian and Varric both gasped at what they saw. The Inquisitor's back was whipped bloody and his whole body was covered in bruises in every hue from purple to yellow.

"Varric, get Cullen and some of the guards in here," said Dorian. "Our Orlesian guest needs to understand that we don't take kindly to the Inquisitor being harmed."

The naked Orlesian laughed. "Pah! Who do you think arranged my alone time with the Inquisitor? I've paid good money for tonight."

Dear Maker, what was he hearing? _Paid_? Cullen had arranged this travesty? "Get out!" Dorian roared. "And don't come back!"

The nobleman gathered up his clothes and stalked to the stairs. "The advisors will hear of my mistreatment!" he threatened.

" _Your_ mistreatment?" Dorian snarled, glancing at Marcus' bruised and battered body. Once the man was gone, Dorian and Varric wasted no time in getting Marcus free of the bindings. Red finger marks adorned his throat like some vile necklace, but Marcus was still unconscious after his near choking.

"Can you heal him, Dorian?" asked Varric.

Dorian nodded. He wasn't a natural healer, but being on the run for so long meant that he picked up a lot of healing magics over the years, otherwise he'd be dead now. "Varric, do you see what I see? The bruises?"

"Shit! You're right, some of those aren't fresh. This isn't the first time this has happened. Maker, what have they been making him do?"

Dorian didn't answer, he could hazard a guess at what had been happening but knew how private Marcus was, and Dorian was sure he wouldn't want this knowledge spread everywhere. There was a blanket spread over the back of the white sofa; Dorian removed it and placed it over Marcus, knowing instinctively that Marcus wouldn't want to be seen naked once he woke. Dorian made his way to the desk in the corner, glad that there was a jug of water and a goblet there already. He removed the pouch of healing herbs from his belt and added the requisite amount into the water. His hands were shaking so much he almost spilled it on the floor rather than pour it into the goblet.

"Varric, can you help him sit up? He needs to drink this."

Varric nodded and padded over to the bed. He tightened the blanket around Marcus' hips and helped up into a sitting position, Marcus' back leaning against the pillows and headboard. Dorian sat down on the edge of the bed and forced the Inquisitor's mouth open. He placed the goblet by Marcus' lips and tilted his head back, making sure Marcus swallowed all of the healing draught. Marcus groaned and tried to move his head away, but Dorian kept too firm a hold of his head for that. It tasted vile, Dorian knew, but it would help both with the injuries and the infections that might set in.

"It's all right, Marcus," said Dorian, "You're safe now."

Marcus' eyes fluttered open and he gaped at Dorian and Varric. His eyes widened with panic and he tried to scuttle away, but he was already flush with the headboard and there was nowhere for him to escape to. "Oh, Maker, you've seen! You've seen what they made me do!" Marcus' breath hitched, as if he might burst into sobs at any moment.

"Glad to see you're all right, Inquisitor," said Varric. "I've got things to do. I'll see you both later."

Dorian never ceased to be amazed at how astute Varric was at reading people. As if he knew Marcus might confide in one of them, but never two. Dorian pulled another blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Marcus' shoulders; Marcus was trembling uncontrollably, probably from shock. "Let me get you some brandy," said Dorian as he padded to the small wine cellar in the Inquisitor's quarters. He didn't want to send down to the kitchen or the Herald's Rest, for he guessed Marcus didn't want this broadcast any further than it already had been.

Dorian poured out a measure of brandy for Marcus but for once he didn't bother making himself a drink. One of them needed a clear head and the Inquisitor needed the brandy more than Dorian did at this moment in time. He brought the goblet back out and handed it to Marcus. Marcus' hand shook a little as he took a sip of the liquid, but he didn't spill any. The silence stretched between them and Dorian knew if Marcus didn't talk now, then he would never talk about it and he needed to talk about or it would fester inside him and eat him up from the inside.

Dorian sat down on the side of the bed, relieved when Marcus didn't pull away from him. "Marcus, how long has this been going on?" Dorian asked softly.

Marcus stared into his goblet, avoiding looking at Dorian. "Since – since Haven."

Dorian was gobsmacked; he hadn't realised the Inquisitor had been suffering in silence for so long. "Dear Maker. _Why_ where they making you do this?"

"At Haven, the Marquis threatened to turn us all out in the snow. The ambassador said I had to do whatever was necessary to save Haven. That if I didn't comply then the deaths of hundreds of refugees and soldiers would be on my conscience. That it was my duty to do what the Marquis wanted. And it turned out that what the Marquis wanted in return was _me_."

"Oh, Marcus! I am so sorry you had to go through this, that you had to go through this alone. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I – I was ashamed. I felt so dirty, Dorian. So _soiled_. I scrubbed and scrubbed and I couldn't get the feel of them off me! I couldn't get them out!" And the tears that had been threatening for a while now poured out of him. Marcus turned and buried his face against Dorian's chest. He clasped Dorian's back, clinging to him like a shipwreck survivor might cling to a floating log.

Dorian wrapped his arms around the distraught young man, but made sure not to move them any further, to let Marcus know it was only a comforting touch, nothing more than that. "You are not soiled, Marcus. You are not filthy. You are are very brave and you will never have to go through that again, I promise you."

Marcus lifted his head and Dorian was drowning in the deep green pool of his eyes, shining with the tears they'd just shed. "But how can you stop it? They're really the ones in charge, I'm just a figurehead. They don't see me as a person. I'm an icon, an idea. All most people see is this mark on my hand. They didn't care if I was hurt, for how can you hurt an idea? And don't we need them? Who else can take over as ambassador or the commander of the armies?"

"You're the Inquisitor now, Marcus. You can decide who you want in those roles. You can banish your three so-called advisors, or imprison them. No one will gainsay you and you can pick your own inner circle. You will never have to see them again if you don't want to. Maybe we can send them on a secret mission to Tevinter." Dorian grinned. "I can just imagine Cullen's face now, he _loathes_ Tevinter."

"Maybe they'd be caught as spies though."

"Good, better that they're imprisoned in Tevinter and far away from you. I won't let anything bad happen to you again, I promise," said Dorian.

"You can't promise that, Dorian. No one can. Corypheus is still out there somewhere, and he'll be after us again."

"Okay, then I'll _try_ and not let anything bad happen to you again, how's that?" Dorian winked at him and gave him a dazzling smile.

"Better, thank you." Marcus smiled at him and Dorian felt his belly flutter. It had been such a long time since he'd seen Marcus smile. "Have you some people in mind for my new advisors? How about Sera for spymaster?"

"Sera? That girl couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it, or yours. And Cole is a bit too strange to blend in anywhere. I was thinking of Varric. He's already run a successful spy network in Kirkwall and further afield; he'll be great."

"Do you think he'd agree?"

"Of course he would, especially if it's your idea. You mean a lot to him, Marcus. To all of us. And just for the record, I don't see you as a symbol or the mark on your hand. You're a brave and unique young man and I am proud to serve you."

"I don't need someone to serve me, Dorian. I need a friend, a confidante. About that kiss – I'm sorry, I panicked. It didn't mean I didn't like you, for I do."

"It's understandable," said Dorian. "After what you've been through it's not surprising that you would be a bit wary of anything intimate. I would never do anything to hurt you, I hope you know that."

"I know, Dorian. I just need some time, that's all. I hope one day we can be more than just friends."

"I hope that too," said Dorian. "You are rather strapping, you know."

Marcus nudged Dorian with his elbow. "You're rather strapping yourself."

Dorian laughed. "Ha! That only takes eyes."

"Luckily I have two of those."

"A rather fetching pair." Dorian paused and stared at Marcus. "Would you like me to stop flirting with you? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Don't you dare," said Marcus. "I said I need time, Dorian. That doesn't mean I'm dead. I enjoy your banter and I don't want to let what any of them did spoil it." Marcus rubbed his hand through his hair. "Could you – would you stay the night? Just for company, I don't want to be alone tonight."

"If that's what you wish."

"It is."

"I'll take the sofa. You wouldn't be able to resist this perfect specimen of manhood if you were sleeping next to it." Dorian preened a bit, pretending to straighten his hair and clothes.

Marcus giggled. "You could be right about that. Right now though, I need a bath. I need to get the stench of him off me."

"Allow me," said Dorian. He marched behind the wooden screen where Marcus' bath stood and filled it with ice. He melted the ice and then warmed the water with magic. He came back out to see Marcus standing in the middle of the room, clutching the blankets to him with white-knuckled fingers. Marcus looked so _lost_ , like a child who had been told that the monsters underneath his bed were real. "Your bath is ready," said Dorian, bowing at the waist and giving a flourish, as if he was a courtier. He was pleased to see Marcus smile at his antics. It was good to see that despite what happened Marcus could still smile.

*

If the three advisors found it odd that they had been called to the Great Hall in the middle of the night they didn't show it. Marcus was sitting on the Skyhold throne, his nine companions arranged to either side of it. Josephine looked the most worried, Leliana looked haughty as usual and Cullen looked suspicious, as well he might.

Lady Vivienne had accepted her new post of ambassador with fervour and it was she who stepped forward first. "Sister Leliana, Rutherford Cullen and Josephine Montilyet. You have been brought before the Inquisition to face judgement."

"Judgement?" demanded Leliana. "What judgement? We haven't done anything wrong!"

Cassandra stepped forward to the front of the dais. "You stand there and proclaim your innocence after what you made the Inquisitor do? The gall of you all. Lady Vivienne, will you read the charges against them?"

Vivienne nodded. "Procurement, conspiracy to rape, conspiracy to cause bodily harm, corruption of a minor."

"Wait," said Cullen. "Corruption of a minor?"

"When you arranged for the Inquisitor to be assaulted at Haven, he was two days shy of his eighteenth birthday. He was a child in the eyes of the law," said Cassandra.

"You have no right to judge us," said Leliana, looking directly at Marcus. "You need us, Inquisitor. We are your advisors. We are the ones who make the Inquisition what it is."

Marcus shook his head. "Well, I don't like the way you are advising me. I refuse to be beholden to your so-called duties. I have new advisors who I know have mine and the Inquisition's best interests at heart. My new spymaster, Varric Tethras."

Varric bowed and placed a hand on the back of Marcus' throne. "My new Commander of Forces, Cassandra Penteghast. The Inquisitor's new ambassador, Lady Vivienne de Fer."

"This is nothing but a kangaroo court. No one will abide by the judgement given here," said Cullen. "We are not leaving."

"Oh, but you will," said Marcus, hoping his voice didn't wobble too much. His heart was beating a frantic rhythm against his chest. He had to remind himself that they had no more power over him. Not any more. "You are hereby banished from the Inquisition, Ferelden and Orlais. All titles are stripped from you. Those countries know what you did and do not wish to harbour you. Soldiers will escort you to the Storm Coast where a ship will be waiting for you. After that, you are on your own."

Leliana smirked. "How does it feel that they know your shame?"

"I have done nothing to be ashamed of," said Marcus, gripping the arms of the throne so tight his knuckles turned white. "What you all did to me was shameful. You are the ones who should be ashamed."

"We're not the ones who spread our legs for every visiting dignitary," said Leliana.

"One more word from you," said Cassandra. "And I will strike you where you stand. The Inquisitor is more forgiving than I. I would have executed the lot of you."

"Take them away," said Marcus, unwilling to hear any more from them. Soldiers appeared from the side doors and led the threesome away and hopefully out of Marcus' life forever.

"You did a generous thing, Boss," said Iron Bull, patting him on the shoulder. "I'm feeling more like Lady Cassandra though, maybe we should have executed them."

"Exile is worse," said Marcus. "They have lost everything."

"The main things is that you're safe," said Varric. "How about we have a game of Wicked Grace to celebrate?"

"It's three o'clock in the morning," protested Cassandra.

"So? I know the boss, I'll put in a good word for you tomorrow if you're late for work."

Marcus raked his gaze over his nine companions and smiled at them all. "Thanks, Varric. I think I'd like that."

Dorian sidled close to him and wrapped an arm around Marcus' waist, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Some of the others whistled and cat-called.

"So, you two an item then, Boss?" asked Bull.

"It's early days yet," said Marcus, giving a fond smile to Dorian. "But, yeah, I think we just might be."

THE END


End file.
